


black blankets in the morning

by Pentaphobe



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-19
Updated: 2016-02-19
Packaged: 2018-05-21 15:14:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6056326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pentaphobe/pseuds/Pentaphobe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The day had been dull. It left him to keep record of reports and handle technical operations. While he wasn't obligated to such things, he felt the need to be somewhere besides the control room. It felt cold. Not crisp and chilled as the snow outside, but metallic and lifeless. It made him desire the warmth that had been curled into his chest seventy two hours ago. The weight nestled there with the idle snores of a mind that wrapped him in silence. Dreams of a place he didn't know, nor did apparently she. More importantly, he remembered the tears he felt at his seams smoothed over by her soft snuffles. Kylo Ren recalled this with.. fondness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	black blankets in the morning

**Author's Note:**

> Minor divergence from 'Songs of Ice and Fire' because life's been getting me down and I wanted to do something fluffy and happened upon this bedroomy type comic on tmblr.. So, tadaa! '^ ' ♥

It was one of those mornings FN-2187 was able to claim she was _indisposed_ with duties of the upmost importance. Such as assuring that Lord Ren was properly guarded during his rest, which in leyman's terms meant spending the first three hours of a typical stormtrooper's morning buried beneath black blankets. Usually, there was alarm that sounded for specific squadrons for their early hour routines which included runs, drills, and other preparations before each squad would go about their technical duties in between fits of practices.

Here, there was no such thing.

Instead, her brown dome was smooshed into a off-white pillow with the dark blankets nearly thrown over her shoulders. If not for the pale, thewy arm of compact strength looped about her upper body.

Kylo Ren found the girl was a creature that exuded an obsurdly pleasing amount of warmth and in the early hours of the nebulous morning, before 0700 hours, he found himself drawn over the space her width and density took up. Not that him sacrificing majority of the blankets and sheets to her in the middle of the night had anything to do with it. 

He simply enjoyed this. Often enveloping her body in the entirety of his long stretch of alabaster skin and rather lean muscle. While he was ectomorphic, the man had no trouble in drawing--wedging her torso halfway under his narrow chest and her backside against his groin.

Oblivious to all of this, Eight-Seven sort of just.. curls up further. Content with using the arm that snakes under her head as a second pillow, pushing the warm tip of her nose against the cool skin along his wrist. As if to return the gesture, his nose presses in behind her ear, inhaling the crisp clean smell of her and the faint hint of industrial soap. Just soaking the simplistic feel of her warm, the soft murmurs of her little snores and occasional squirm that fit her comfortably against him.

Despite this being one of many times she's shared his bed, he'd never get used to supple skin beneath his hands. The way she didn't recoil or melt through his fingertips, but remained solid and whole. She was perfect and breathing and real.

There was so much brightness in her, he was always drawn to it. A moth to a flame.

He hungered for it constantly and the Force blessed him with her allowing herself to be pliant in his hands.

To ever so softly shift when his lips press to the skin beneath her ear and mutter a quiet coo against the sheets. He buried his face against her shoulder, dusting her cheeks with the dark cloud of hair that came from the top of his head.

Through the haze of dreamless sleep, his now warm hands swam up the curved structure of her trim midline. Just slow tickles and brushes, up to the valley of her breast. The middle and index stroked over the space between her mounds, just feeling the gentle beat of her heart. Only to feel it so subtly change in pace when his palm swallows the shape of her right breast.

A curious sound is heard from below but his touch continues, fingers circling the dusky buds atop of the pliable flesh of her bosom before venturing elsewhere.

His wide palm crest the natural heat coming from her mound, listening to the soft stutter of something that sounds like "Ben.." when he knows its the name she knows him more properly by. But, he imagines it is and it breathes a certain life in him, even though it was a sleepy mutter.

His fingers skirt over the lips of her nethers, quietly grateful that she slept with so little clothes from her furnace like temperature.

"Mhn.."

Her shoulders are shrugging with the disturbance, shuddering as one.. two.. long, spidery fingers sink into the encompassing wetness to the knuckle.

"-en.. M'shleepinghhmm.."

The thin, feathery textures of his lips press to her throat as he groans, feeling her buttocks shuffle against the semi-erect state of himself and feeling each clench of her around his touch while he ever so slowly kneads her. "Shh.. You don't have to get up.."

His fingers begin a slow, languid pump in and out, curling at some point in a slight _come hither_ that makes her mewl deliriously.

"Just go back to sleep.."

The arm that was her pillow gently guiding her on her stomach. He let no space between them when he guided her as he liked, till she was beneath him and his hips could lazily align with her buttocks. He cradled her in the nook of his elbow, pressing another kiss to the trim fade on her skull while his fingers retreated to mindlessly press the head of his shaft against her in a lurid tap.

It was so slow.

She was barely lucid when his knobbish tip nuzzled past the entrance... and then, back. Then forward... then back. Little by little, easing his way in and nestling where he wanted. The sluggish roll of his hips aided by that same hand that guided him to enter to, to cradle her underbelly. Just wanting the right angle before he penetrated upward, and with one final, fervid stroke -- he was so very deep in that spasming channel, stretching her at such an angonizing pace.

He **shuddered** , hardening almost instantly -- feeling her walls work in fluid undulations. She's almost thrust from sleep, but his lazy indulgence is what makes it all the more blissful. The corners of her eyes prickle with tears, from grogginess of sleep and the intensity of the visceral reaction to him.

Always so tender with her, squeezing her hips with the rhymatic *smk* of each impact from his hips meeting hers, mutedly by the cushion of her backside. The blankets masking the sound of his squeezing the excess of her oozing wetness around his girth.

Not even minutes later, his arms around cacooning around her and his shoulders are hunkering down over her back. There a little quiver that starts in the pit of her tummy. Just in time with the tremble that starts in his thighs. He doesn't stop,. In fact, the slow prods begin to become faster, less gliding her over him like a vice-like sleeve -- to cramming himself in downward jabs that she started to feel in her belly button.

It was a unceremonious build to her the harsh collisions that rocked her core. Tore the sweet whimpers and huffs for air till her voice is rising to a pitch only he knows.

And of course, he demands it for himself. Possessive and voracious for the delirium she lets rush over her so suddenly.

It's his name, again. That leads him with her to the peak.

"R-ren.." But, he imagines it as the name he hears in the back of his head.

The one that's long past. Of the man with twin face who presses forward when she curls further into his sheets, the hand splayed over his pillow curling over his thumb with a small, brown pinky.

He imagines her saying his name like a prayer, a whisper when he turns her somewhat on her side and presses his thin lips onto hers. Having learned ways to lead a plunder onto her mouth that leaves her whining. Toned, strong arms curling around his shoulders and tugging him into the soft body below. He could only chuckle in relief and mirth as she muttered some half-sleepy sluggish complaint, saying being as dutiful as she is and was, she deserved two more hours. He didn't reply, just guard her hip. 

The length of him pressing in to the hilt and grinding the last of himself out into her. Needing all of her entirely to be his, keep the black ache of fear welling in him silent. So, he refits her into his arms again and tugs the blankets up over her shoulders, reluctantly slipping out of her so could turn and bury herself appropriately into his lean chest.

Kylo Ren and him.. Both sides of him, they cling to the girl.

Imagining her saying his name.. before her lashes flutter back close.


End file.
